


The Wedding Date

by IsleofSolitude



Category: Cassandra Palmer Series - Karen Chance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Fake Dating, M/M, Wedding date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude
Summary: With an important wedding coming up, Radu Basarab must rely on his wedding date to make it through the happy day.Written for the chanceverse romantic comedy challenge on tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything familiar, up to and including the word "memo" and "mojito".

The name of Basarab represented many things. 

It alluded to a certain grace, to a power that one could feel soul deep, to a legacy that would last generations.

When someone muttered “Basarab”, it was probably to answer the question “Which family has the most connections among the most countries” or “What family did that guy who bought out the company belong to?”

“Basarab” was most definitely not supposed to be associated with a colorfully dressed, day drinking failed scientist sitting at a bar that didn’t even have ample parking.

And yet here Radu Basarab sat, staring forlornly at his raspberry mojito, hoping that the cigarette smoke would be able to get out of his beautiful dry clean only mint green blazer without destroying it. The garment had only been used once, so it would be such a shame.

Wincing, he took another drink. Shame. That’s what he would bring to the family if this didn’t get fixed. Shame, and disgrace, and a whole lot of other words that left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Catching the bartender’s eye, he indicated for another drink.  
___

6 weeks ago

“What is the meaning of this!” Sweeping into his brother’s office, Radu slapped the offensive sheet of paper on the mahogany desk. 

Mircea quirked an eyebrow and took the paper, reading it swiftly. “It appears rather self explanatory.”

Radu frowned. “Obviously I know what it is. What I don’t understand is why I have one.”

Mircea offered it back to Radu. When Radu only stared at him, Mircea sighed and moved it off his work papers. “You have one because this is going to be a very important--and extravagant--affair. The wedding of two royals , and not during war time at that...it makes sense that they’d invite everyone of importance.”

Radu scoffed. “I’ve never met either of them! Not even when you were dating one of them.” At Mircea’s pained look, Radu softened. “Oh, surely you know I’m not still mad about that right? Oh, Mircea, you’re not still hung up on--”

“--No, I’m not Radu, please--”

“--Oh good, I was worried for a second. You did get one too, then?”

Mircea nodded. “Yes, I got one. I’m sure everyone here did, except maybe Marlowe…”

“Yes, well, he and the groom have certainly never seen eye to eye,” Radu mused, eyeing the invitation. 

Mircea let out a laugh. “That’s a bit of an understatement.” This time when he handed Radu the invitation, it was taken. “I’ve already spoken to the Consul. She wants to…” He paused, to find the right word. “She wants to make sure we all represent the company to the best of our abilities.”

“So, be fashionable, be prompt, courteous, and make sure the cameras get it all?”

Mircea nodded. “Exactly. Also, she’s requested that we not go alone. The father of the groom...well…” This time he floundered for the delicate way to put it and decided to just be blunt. “The father of the groom is paying for the reception and she wants to make sure he pays.”

Radu’s elegant and delicate invitation was suddenly crumbled in his fist as he stared at his brother.

Mircea eyed him. “Ah. I see you didn’t get the memo.”  
___

5 weeks, 3 days ago.

Despite being one of Mircea’s best friends, as well as someone who Radu spent copious amounts of time with, Kit Marlowe was not someone Radu truly liked. The man was blunt, rude, and impatient. Those three qualities were not something a finicky, precise, scatter brained man like Radu readily embraced.

However, sometimes Marlowe had some positive points. He was good at his job--eerily good, sometimes-- and despite his temper and stubborn demeanor, he could be extraordinarily discreet.

So when Radu unlocked the door to his office and saw Marlowe sitting at his desk, Radu’s badly smoothed out invitation twirling in one hand, he was annoyed but also unsurprised, and went about flicking the lights on and opening the windows as per his norm, figuring a point would come about eventually.

“So, I assume you got the memo?” Marlowe got out of the chair as Radu sniffed at him.

“You better not be getting smoke onto my chair.”

Marlowe scowled at him. “I haven’t smoked in this suit...today.” At Radu’s disbelieving stare, Marlowe just rolled his eyes but abandoned his seat. “Did you get the memo?”

Radu grew up with the expectations and rules of his family drilled into his head from birth. One of those rules stated: A Basarab does not roll his eyes.Whoever made that rule had never interacted with Marlowe, he thought sourly as he set his bag down. “Yes, I got the memo.”

“And who are you bringing?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but I was thinking Louis-Cesare.”

Marlowe looked as though he had bit into something sour. “You can’t.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rather than edge around Marlowe to get to the coat rack, he handed his peacock coat to Marlowe, who made the motion to hang it up before realizing what he was doing and dumped it on the desk, knocking over a pen stand.

“You can’t take your foster puppy! Not only is that not a date--”

“--The memo calls for a plus one, not just a date--”

“--But he also has already committed to being a plus one for someone.”

“--And he is not my foster puppy he’s my son--What?”

“Fine, he’s your foster son, whatever. But the fact stands that he’s already going with your niece as her plus one. What is that look on your face? Are you going to throw up? Please don’t throw up.”

Radu refused to admit it was supposed to be a look of betrayal. “You knocked over my pen, that’s what the look is. I like that pen.” 

“....Right. Anyways. Who is your date?”

Radu rolled his eyes. “It’s a surprise.”

“So you don’t have one.” Marlowe didn’t sound surprised, just resigned. Radu didn’t blame him, but it still was offensive.

“I do so.” At his questioning look, he amended, “Well, I have a few to ask. Haven’t decided who yet.”

Marlowe snickered. “Right. Well, when you get done asking those..friends? Call these fine folks and get it settled.” He tossed a small business card on the desk. “I trust you can handle it yourself. Remember, the Consul wants no mistakes. It’s too much press for a misstep.” He saw himself out.

Radu groaned. Marlowe was full of himself, but he was also right.

That didn’t make it easier to swallow, especially since the jerk had not picked up his pen before his hasty exeunt.

__

5 weeks, 2 days ago

An agency.

Radu had to dial three times before he worked up the courage to actually managed to complete it. His throat felt dry as the first point of contact explained the process.

Answer these questions, fill out this information, everything is completely confidential sir, please let us know the date and type of event, as well as duration and anything else you think would come in handy. Do you have a preference? Such as men or women, sir. Or perhaps you prefer this body type or that body type--no? Okay, thank you sir. 

The whole process was quite bizarre to Radu, and that was very hard to do considering things Radu had experienced. Freaking out and stabbing his ex in the leg during their first date and then crying and babbling an apology in a tree felt exceedingly preferable to this whole ordeal.

However, the thought of explaining to the Consul that yes, he did get the memo but he came stag to the event of the year anyways was definitely a good way of messing up his entire life.

So he stayed on the phone, answered their questions, and found himself agreeing to meet Gunther--one of the few available for that duration-- the next week to make introductions and plan for their date.

Hanging up the phone, Radu resisted the urge to find a tree to cry in.

___

5 weeks ago

The Panther Park Hotel Lounge and Bar was a delightful, classy establishment. The menu was absolutely divine, what with their lobster soup and eggplant parmesan and sour apple martinis, while the atmosphere was an elegant study in functionality and minimalism. 

Despite all it’s charm, the only quality Radu cared about was that it was miles away from the company and no one he knew enjoyed it there. That meant it was a safe spot to meet his wedding date without worrying about prying eyes in his business.

Despite all the nerves he had felt going into the phone call, the agency had proved relatively stress free once he had reached out. He had hung up the phone and done his best to go about his life as though he wasn’t a desperate and lonely person. 

So now he sat, a Basarab in name only, for he definitely did not possess dignity, strength, bravery, or even a semblance of normality when the tap on his shoulder with an accompanying “Mr. Basarab, sir?” came. 

Turning, Radu’s hand, holding his newly refilled mojito, collided with a set of solid--and nice--abs and shattered the glass against his wedding date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This almost wasn't chosen. Originally I was going to do something with LC/Dory, but then Marco's Burly Biceps said  
> "#lets make some real niche shit ppl#the crackiest crack#nows the time rosier and casanova fic#radella and miranda? caleb and marlowe? gay and gay?#bring it on"
> 
> So I "brought it". Hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

Radu had never claimed to be a people person. That honor goes to his older brother, who could make anyone into a best friend shortly upon meeting him. That said, Radu could have sworn he had gotten through life in his own charming way that didn’t involve awkwardness and broken glass.

Deciding his existentialist crisis could hold while he dealt with his current problem--that of the ruined mojito currently soaking into his business associate’s lovely green sweater, and shards of glass had fallen to the floor, luckily sparring both Radu and the sweater wearer any wounds, although the liquid dripped onto meticulous Cole Haan Cambridge wingtip shoes in a lovely shade of brown. It what was probably the most strength Radu had used showed since dealing with his foster son’s bully all those years ago, he raised his eyes to the face of the man he had essentially assaulted. 

Dark blue eyes stared down at him. Light golden hair was pulled back in a small ponytail, the tip of which just brushed the top of his spine. Peeking out from the sweater was a gray top that looked incredibly soft. One sandy, perfectly shaped eyebrow quirked up questioningly. “...Mr. Basarab?”

Radu moved his drink from those solid abs to the bar, sputtering out an apology. There was a flurry of activity as two servers having witnessed it all, with a towel who she offered to Gunther, the other with a broom to sweep up the glass shards. Both asked after injuries, and when both men shook their heads, the servers indicated them to move down a few seats and leave the mess to them.

Gunther smiled hesitantly at Radu then. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t drink during the day.”

Crisis over.

Radu smiled back sheepishly. “My apologies. I, uhm, will let the bartender serve you the rest of the drinks from now one.” Gunther chuckled at that and Radu felt some of his panic start to fade. “Please, call me Radu.”

The bartender chose that moment to slide a new mojito in front of Radu. “For you, sir. And for your friend?” They both looked at Gunther.

“Sprite, please.”

“Coming right up, sir.”

It was only a minute until both men were situated with their drinks. Radu sipped at it, eyeing the wet sweater only once more before resolving to push it out of his mind. “So, I suppose, uhm, the agency provided you with all the information I submitted?”

Nodding, Gunther took a sip of his water. “Yes. I reviewed it and drafted up a proposal.” He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small tablet. Pressing some buttons, he set it on the bar in front of Radu. “Take your time reading it. Feel free to inquire about the sections, it’s all lawyer talk so it might be overly excessive but that’s how it goes. Towards the bottom is where we can add notes about the details like travel arrangements, notes on physical limits, and a break down in fees and costs.”

Radu nodded. Somehow, with Gunther’s relaxed and almost playful tone, the whole arrangement didn’t seem as odd-or desparate-as he had originally dreaded. Due to his career, he was able to quickly decipher the lawyer-ese language, and got through the document fairly quickly. It was all mostly standard terms and conditions, until the bottom section, where bullet points were titled with “PHYSICAL TOUCH” and “ROLE PLAYING”. He noted there at the end of each paragraph were checkboxes and room to write. He looked at Gunther questioningly.

“So, this is where we discuss what is and is not okay. I’ve never been able to memorize the whole spiel, but you can read it in all it’s glory here--” Gunther scrolled the tablet to the section “ so here’s the highlights: I’m an escort here to assist you during occasions as a friend and companion. I am not a prostitute, and you are not paying me for sex or any sexual acts, and I am under no obligation to do anything physical with you. If I feel uncomfortable, pressured, or otherwise unsafe I am not required to stay on as your escort and will terminate the job with no legal repercussions.” Radu nodded, and Gunther smiled. “That being said, some clients need their escort to not just be a physical presence, but an emotional one as well. Fake dating is another name for it, but essentially your escort will play the part of a long term partner, a high profile catch, and so on, in order to provide the client with less embarrassment or a higher reputation. We do not judge, and we do not talk about it.”

Radu nodded, consideringly. “That does seem to make sense why Kit referred you.”

“So, is that why you reached out?”

Shaking his head, Radu gulped his mojito. “No, no fake dating needed. Just a date. We had a memo going around to be sure to have a plus one and my social circle is fairly small.” Gunther smiled encouragingly. “That being said...I don’t want it known how...small...that circle really is. So can we just pretend you are a friend, or a date, and not being paid?” Radu had almost said pathetic instead of small. He tried not to feel both and kept his shoulders straight and positive.

“Sure we can. That makes sense. So casual touching--like dancing or hugs and so on-- would be okay in that case, but no kissing.” Gunther shifted the tablet to him and typed in those notes. At the mention of “kissing” Radu had found himself looking at Gunther’s lips out of simple curiosity, and while he had no desire to kiss them, found the lips quite kissable indeed. “And you had already sent in all the travel information, so that’s all taken care of. I’ll get an official contract and invoice prepared and have that to you by the morning. If you need anything else, my information was emailed to you..hm..Okay, I believe that takes care of anything.” Gunther smiled at him, and Radu couldn’t help but smile back. “Just initial here, and I will see you in a few weeks for our trip.”

Radu initialed, breathing a sigh of relief. Gunther’s no-nonsense attitude was relaxing. Despite the disastrous start, perhaps this decision was for the best after all. He would have to get Kit a nice bottle to show his thanks. Finishing the last of his drink, he bade Gunther a good day and gave him a solid handshake--Mircea had been gracious enough to practice with him last year and he was proud how well he remembered how to do his least favorite social interaction--and moved to stand up. 

Oh, no was his only thought as the brown haired Basarab’s leg, which was suffering from pins and needles from sitting in one position too long, gave out on him and he sank to the floor, head and hands flopping awkwardly onto the lap of his drinking partner.

Except for Radu’s blood rushing through his ears, there was silence until Gunther’s amused voice asked, “...Do we need to alter the PDA agreement?”


	3. Chapter 3

**3 days before the wedding**

Waiting for planes was ridiculous. Radu had always found the “hurry up and wait” aspect of traveling his least favorite thing about going from place to place. Especially since most people had to wait in subpar conditions, and publically. Maybe he was spoiled, but he much preferred to use his time his way instead of having to deal with the general populace at large. 

He sighed, allowing himself to get more comfortable in the very awkwardly sized chair of the waiting room. Gunther had texted him last night saying it was probably best to just meet at the airport in the morning. Radu had agreed, relieved he wouldn’t have to cut short his own rituals and last minute checklist in order to accommodate the man. 

Not that he would have minded. Since the absolutely devastating first encounter, he and Gunther had spoken several times, usually through email or text, and with each conversation Radu felt more and more at ease with the tall man. Radu’s carry on was on the seat beside him, and as he made a movement to get the overpriced water he had been forced to buy after the security checkpoint, his phone vibrated. 

_Just got through security. Putting shoes on, see you in a minute. --Gunthr_

Radu got the urge, as he did ever since he had noticed the typo, to correct the saved contact name, but resisted. Why, he didn’t know, but it made him feel slightly more at ease to not have the full name on his phone. 

Leaning back, he scrolled up the messaged between them, letting a smile play over his face.

_So your brother and you work at the same place? That’s nice, to have family close at hand. --Gunthr_

__

Yes, it’s nice. Mircea and I weren’t always able to spend time together, especially as teens, so being able to be close now is more than I expected. -- Radu

__

_I have two younger sisters and one older sister, but they live scattered everywhere so we rarely are all together. We email a ton though, and we’re all close enough in age that we were inseparable as kids. --Gunthr_

The family conversation had taken place in bed, Radu putting off sleep, phone on his pillow as he aimlessly let his finger tap it on and off again between each reply. 

_I’ve never visited the beach during summer, this should be interesting. Any packing tips? -- Gunthr_

__

Sunscreen and aloe. Also, hope you don’t love sand, you won’t after walking on it for a weekend. --Radu

__

Lmao. Good thing I have no preference on sand at all. I saw the picture of the resort, it looks nice -- Gunthr

__

_I happened to see the spa, it looks like your kind of place ;) --Gunthr_

Radu hadn’t responded to that one, and had even contemplated asking Louis-Cesare what kind of comment that was, but didn’t dare. That had taken place before the family conversation, and was the second time he had felt his heart skip a beat since he had met the escort. Looking around, he quickly scrolled up to the first time.

_What activities are we expected to do, by the way? I know you mentioned possible fun and games -- Gunthr_

__

Mircea mentioned outdoors at one point. No idea yet, planning is not something they included me in. -- Radu

__

_So pack for a variety, got it. Wet suit, speedo, and a tux. Maybe I need to rethink which suit case to bring. -- Gunthr_

When he had gotten that message, Radu had been in the middle of writing up his reports. He had glanced at it casually, but then his brain broke at the very strong mental image of Gunther in the attire. He honestly didn’t know which one he had a stronger reaction to, all three made him lose all thought. 

Even reading it today in the airport, the brown haired traveler could feel his face grow hot. During their first meeting, Radu had gotten to feel both a definite six (and possibly more) pack of abs, and really strong calf muscles (Though the how was more embarrassing than he would ever tell the story of voluntarily. Dorina would absolutely never let him live it down if she knew). They had discussed their physical limits and he had broken at least two of those line items within minutes of signing off on them, he couldn’t help but wince on Gunther’s behalf.

Still, despite the fact that he knew he shouldn’t, the images of Gunther and those very strong muscles had come back to him last night, when he was packing his own (bright and outlandish “The better to find Kit, seriously, stop glaring”) suitcase. Holding his own swimwear in his hands, his mind would flash to Gunther--in a speedo, in swim trucks, his mind was not picky-- standing on the sand, his blond hair shining in the beach sun…

As he did last night, Radu shook his head, attempting to get ahold of his imagination. Flights of fancy were okay, but fantasizing about a business associate was not something he wanted to encourage. For goodness sake, Gunther was younger than him, and had been nothing but professional. It was poor form to entertain those thoughts, and it was nothing but complications and overthinking that was bound to come back to bite Radu in the butt. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been on a date in forever, and that his last “relationship” was not healthy and starting to be looked at with only nostalgia, Radu would definitely channel his control, channel that famous grace of the Basarab, and get through this weekend with all the charm and delight that was their reputation. 

His phone alerted him to a new text message.

_I spy with my little eye a distracted passenger next to a bright suitcase -- Gunthr_

Radu looked up, and saw Gunther striding towards him. The younger man wore comfortable looking gray sweatpants, a simple black hoodie, and moc-toe drivers (Were those Michael Bastian Gray? Radu had a pair of those at home also) Sporting a backpack on one shoulder and pulling a neutral hard case suitcase behind him, Gunther sat down beside Radu. 

“Morning! Sorry I’m just a little late, there was a wreck and the cab had to detour. Supposedly. You ready for this weekend? It’s all a cake walk after the plane ride, right?”

Radu smiled weakly, an intoxicating smell of aftershave causing his stomach to somersault, especially with the blinding smile Gunther gave him. “Yes, we’ll just breeze through.” _Charming, delightful, professional._

Easier said than done.

**Author's Note:**

> This almost wasn't chosen. Originally I was going to do something with LC/Dory, but then Marco's Burly Biceps said  
> "#lets make some real niche shit ppl#the crackiest crack#nows the time rosier and casanova fic#radella and miranda? caleb and marlowe? gay and gay?#bring it on"
> 
> So I "brought it". Hopefully.


End file.
